


This is why God Gave Us Safewords

by PrettyArbitrary



Series: Accidental Sex [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: John almost chokes a bitch, John almost gets dub-conned, M/M, Safeword Fail, Suddenly Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyArbitrary/pseuds/PrettyArbitrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finally identified their quarry at the exact same moment that, across the dining room, a man in a double-breasted suit tangled his hand into the chain of John’s dog tags and yanked him into his broad chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is why God Gave Us Safewords

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so uh...I feel sort of bad about this on behalf of the BDSM community because they _are_ at a sex club and John did screw up the safeword thing. But I'm assured that if a sub is threatening to punch you, then you should probably at least check to see if ur doin it wrong, even if he is dressed like a soldier pin-up.

Sherlock finally identified their quarry at the exact same moment that, across the dining room, a man in a double-breasted suit tangled his hand into the chain of John’s dog tags and yanked him into his broad chest.

Bloody _hell._

He tried to watch both at once. Maybe one would resolve itself, or he could spot some mark on his target that’d make him easier to follow.

John was shoving against the man’s chest, trying to push away. Sherlock could read the expression on his face. He was addressing the man with the same polite sheepishness he displayed when he’d knocked into someone on a crowded pavement. Sherlock mouthed the words along with him— _Sorry, look, you’ve got the wrong idea_ —and rolled his eyes, because what other idea could someone _have_ when they had John in their hands with one piece of clothing between him and complete nudity? Sure enough, the man coiled another loop of chain around his fingers, keeping John right where he was.

John’s lips went thin. He said something less polite. The man tugged at him with a smug little smile, pulling him forward and down into his booth. John planted one hand on the table and a knee on the seat to keep from falling into the man’s lap, and went…still.

Oh, bugger.

Sherlock was shoving a chair aside and moving without even registering the sound of furniture toppling over. Their criminal wouldn’t murder anyone for another three hours yet. John was set to commit homicide in the next sixty seconds.

He made sure John’s eyes caught his motion as he circled around to their far side, going for the intimidation factor of sudden materialization. If John knew Sherlock was going to intercede, he might hold off on grievous bodily harm.

…Or the ignorant ox might try to kiss him. Damn it.

John’s hands were coming up in menacing hooks when Sherlock reached over the back of the booth to seize the man’s hair. He yanked backwards to break the kiss, then shoved sideways and down to drive the fool straight into the top of the table.

Sherlock was fairly certain he’d wake up. John disentangled his chain from the man’s hand, and then checked the sod’s pulse. “Well, you didn’t kill him.” He didn’t sound particularly moved about it.

Two men in good suits shook loose from their discreet positions along the wall and headed in their direction. Sherlock spared them a glance, then turned back to John. “What the hell happened?”

“What the hell does it look like?” John rolled the man’s head to the side so he could breathe, then pushed back out of the booth.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I mean, what _happened?_ What did you say to him?”

“I said no!” John turned on him, eyes glowing with irritation. “What do you _think_ I said?”

“You’re supposed to use a safeword.”

“I gave him my safeword,” John gritted. “It was ‘no.’ And also, ‘touch me against my will and I will hyperextend your neck.’” The two goons reached them, only to find themselves ignored with professional skill. “Who the hell would say that if they were roleplaying?”

A small ruckus from across the room drew Sherlock’s attention. Their man, heading for the back exit. “Throw me out that way,” he told the bouncers.


End file.
